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The other day, the Bryn Mawr College twitter account tweeted a question for mawrtyrs to consider: “when was the first moment that you knew you’d made the right choice in coming to Bryn Mawr?” As I pondered the question, a number of lovely memories popped into my head. Would I say it was at the admitted student’s day in the spring, when my host student brought me to meet her roommate and I discovered the roommate was a friend of mine from camp? Or maybe when my dean knew who I was when I first walked into her office, because she’d remembered reading my application essay and had a class written down that she thought I’d like (it was costume design, and my essay was about being the head of costuming for my high school theatre productions)? Or was it when I walked into introduction to biological anthropology and anthropological archaeology, my first class of the school year, and saw that the classroom was filled with photographs of the women scientists who had preceded me at this institution? All of those moments stand out to me as times I knew I’d made the right choice–though of course each of the traditions I went to also solidified my certainty–but there was another memory that I knew really held the key.

During the first month or so of my freshman year, my customs people, Gabby and Angela (who is also a banter blogger!), organized what they called a “deep tea.” Their customs people had done the same for them, and they wanted to pass on the experience. I should note that this year, students have stopped referring to meetings and such as teas in light of racist connotations of the word (in the past, African-American students were apparently expected to serve the tea to their white counterparts, which is absolutely not something any of us now would want to condone), preferring “hall hangouts,” “receptions,” and other, clearer terms. Unlike most other Bryn Mawr meetings, though, we were actually drinking tea as part of our main activity, so I’ll continue to refer to this event as a “deep tea” for the remainder of this blog post.

The deep tea was a bonding experience for our customs group, an elaborate icebreaker that got us all to open up to each other. Gabby and Angela had put a bunch of questions in a mug, ranging from things like “talk about your happiest memory” and “what’s your favorite TV show?” to things like “what are you afraid of?” and “how do you hope to change in college?” Everyone was allowed to answer as many or as few of the questions as they wanted, provided they were holding one of the rubber ducks that indicated they were in the speaking order. We all promised to keep the content of each other’s answers secret, in order to ensure that people felt comfortable sharing with the group. We talked about our prom outfits, parents, institutional and everyday racism, religion, our hopes and worries for college, and so much more. I think we depleted more than one box of tissues–by the end of the tea, almost everyone was crying or had cried (not all tears were sad tears, though). My friend Sohini spilled her tea on me while sitting down, which is actually kind of how we became friends!

It was a really emotional evening, but in the best possible way. With a customs group of 21 people plus the two customs people, the idea of bonding with each other had seemed intimidating at first. But the tea brought out everyone’s concerns and passions, and helped us find things we had in common with each other. I’d been nervous about sharing anything personal with such a large group of people, but I knew that everyone would follow the honor code and respect each other’s privacy. When I looked around the room at the end of the tea, I knew I’d found a group of people I’d always be able to rely on to understand me–not just the people in that room, though they were all of course important to me, but the larger Bryn Mawr community, for we only represented a cross-section. My customs people had created a trusting space, and I knew I’d always be able to talk to them about my problems. Because they’d also shared a lot of personal stories, the tea also helped me see them as friends rather than the kind of camp counselor role I’d been thinking of them as filling. Though I may not still see or talk to everyone in my customs group every day, I know that we all have each other’s backs, and I found some of my best friends in that room. That was how I knew Bryn Mawr was the right choice: it was full of incredible women from all kinds of backgrounds, each of whom wanted to make this community the best possible place to be.

To be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to Lantern Night this year. I hadn’t been feeling well that weekend and I was stressed about a lot of homework, so I was worried that committing to be a swinger during the ceremony was going to be a huge, unpleasant time-suck. I didn’t want to be stressed during Lantern Night, but there was nothing I could do. As a massive thunderstorm raged outside, I stood around Thomas Great Hall with my friends, trying to memorize the Pallas song during our last few hours before the beginning of the ceremony (the lyrics can be found in Greek and English here). I tried to remind myself of why I’d signed up to participate in the first place: I know a lot of first-years (including my cousin), one of my best friends (Sohini, who was my roommate last year) is a traditions mistress, and another close friend from our customs group is the songsmistress, I’d liked being a runner last year, and I love the cloisters and Bryn Mawr.

the cloisters earlier on Sunday afternoon during a dress rehearsal

inside TGH before the ceremony started–absolute madness!

Before Lantern Night could begin, there were a lot of preparations which needed to happen. Swingers are juniors and seniors who stand in the arches of the cloisters and swing their lanterns up and down while singing the Pallas Athena. We provide the background music for the runners as they deliver the lanterns to the first-years. After the first-years pick up their lanterns and sing the Sophias, we sing the Sophias on repeat until they’ve all left the cloisters. Each arch is supposed to contain one junior and one senior, and we raise and lower our lanterns in contrasting patterns. While we were waiting for everything to start, everyone started to arrange themselves in the arches, searching for a partner. My former customs person, Gabby, teasingly tried to get my friend Jamie and I to fight for the honor of standing next to her, but our friend Cordelia stepped in to claim me as her arch buddy. I was also right next to my other former customs person, Angela!

Cordelia’s red lantern and my dark blue one (my candle was a bit tall and only lit up the top half of my lantern for most of the night!)

When the lights were all darkened in Thomas, the crowd fell into a hushed silence, and the first-years began filing into the cloisters in the quiet darkness. As their robes rustled with movement, I felt my stress begin to fade away. At the cue of Sofi, senior songsmistress, we all stepped up into our arches, lanterns at the ready. Though I didn’t exactly know every word of the Pallas, I knew enough to sing loudly and clearly as the first light blue lanterns were dashed across the still-wet grass. I fell into a ceaseless rhythm, switching arms at the bottom of my swing whenever I felt the strain on my muscles and grasping a bit more of the song with each rendition. I remembered my own Lantern Night, and how beautiful and strange the whole ceremony had seemed. It still held some of that mystery for me, even though I knew the identities of most of the black-robed figures lining the stone walls. My hell daughter, Maya, was a runner, and she tapped me lightly with each pass, each time reminding me of the incredible community I’ve found here at Bryn Mawr.

my dark blue lantern

I started to notice the weight of my lantern around the fifth rendition of the Sophias, though the ceremony mercifully ended before I could really find cause for complaint. My throat was dry and cracked from singing, and I realized my eyes were brimming with tears. I watched Sohini master the hordes of confused first-years trying to return their robes, got hot chocolate with my hell mom Emma, and caught up with my cousin to delight in her light blue lantern next to mine. I felt like I’d been set back on track, and regained some of that wisdom we sing of passing on. I love the giggle that resonates through the crowd as generations of Mawrtyrs remember the joys of the up-tempo “Enthoumometha orthos hosa praxomen orthos” line in the Sophias. I love seeing hundreds of lanterns shining in the night, championing wisdom and community. I love Bryn Mawr, and welcoming new family home. Happy Lantern Night, baby blues!

Maya (my hell baby), Cecilia (my cousin) with her new lantern, and me!

When I was applying to colleges, one of the things that really stood out to me about Bryn Mawr was our relationship with the University of Pennsylvania. As part of the Quaker consortium (which also includes Swarthmore and Haverford), Bryn Mawr students may take up to two classes per semester at Penn (and vice versa). Because I’m doing an independent major in film and media studies, I often look outside of Bryn Mawr’s offerings for my courses. This semester, I am taking a class on the director Wes Anderson (Moonrise Kingdom, Rushmore) which meets on Wednesday nights. Because I spent the summer in Philly, living quite close to Penn’s campus, I was already quite familiar with taking SEPTA in and out of the city (though it really isn’t very difficult).

waiting for the train at Union Station in DC

made it to Philly!

Even though it’s only once a week, my Penn class can be quite a commitment. The University of Pennsylvania has a different academic calendar from ours, and they unfortunately don’t share a fall break. Of course, I knew this going into the semester, and because I live just outside of nearby Washington, D.C., I decided it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to take a train up for the evening. It was actually kind of fun–because most of my fall break is spent vegging out, I welcomed the opportunity to keep my brain working. I was able to explore a bit more of Penn’s campus during the golden hour, which was really wonderful. There was also a heating problem in our classroom, so we were briefly shuttled around to three different rooms in different buildings, which sort of helped familiarize me with the campus.

the arts library at Penn, which I really like (I forgot a picture of the building my classroom is in!)

When the professor, Dr. Valerie Ross, asked us on the first day of class why we’d signed up for it, I was pleasantly surprised to hear more than half of my classmates say they’d heard she was an amazing professor. I’d heard horror stories of Bryn Mawr students who’d been super excited about a Penn class, only to get there and discover they hated the professor or the style of the course. Registering for a Penn class requires a few more steps and approvals than a regular course, partially because they use a completely different system. After spending a large part of move-in day running around Philly trying to officially move out of my apartment, get my Penn ID/access to their websites, and figure out where the building was, I didn’t want to be disappointed and have to completely rearrange my schedule. Luckily, the course has been awesome so far–It certainly doesn’t hurt that Wes Anderson is my favorite director! I also like that the class is pretty small for Penn (only about 25 people), and my classmates are delightfully insightful, friendly people who aren’t all students of the Penn College of Liberal and Professional Studies themselves. But don’t worry: Bryn Mawr is definitely still way cooler.

As my second year at Bryn Mawr winds to a close, I figured I might as well reflect on all that I’ve learned and done this year. Though sophomore year might seem like it would be more comfortable and familiar than freshman year, Bryn Mawr has continued to challenge and surprise me. At Parade Night, I welcomed the baby greens to campus and tried to adjust to the new spot at step sing. I joined the executive board of the literary magazine and started working as a banter blogger. First semester, I took anthropology of globalization, the history of narrative cinema from 1945 to the present, a French class on the influence of the environment in early 19th century literature, and, at Haverford, an environmental anthropology course about the Arctic. I was juggling way more work than I’d had to do freshman year, but my professors and classmates kept me invested in learning as much as possible.

me kissing my kitten goodbye before leaving for move-in day

edible white chocolate skull at the anthropology tea

a friend dyed my hair it was very college

In October, I declared my major in anthropology and realized that I didn’t want to study abroad, I wanted to do an independent major in film studies. I celebrated Halloween as Daphne from Scooby-Doo and went behind the scenes of Lantern Night as a runner. In November, I changed my hair, turned 19, and tried to cope with some major changes in my social life. One of the things that made this year feel really difficult at times was the number of my close friends who took time off from school. Leaving college or thinking about transferring is a terrifying and stressful process, and it takes a special kind of bravery to admit that sometimes you just need to give it all a rest. When Bryn Mawr felt overwhelming, I got to know Philly better and I learned how much I appreciated my incredible support system of friends. I got super sick as finals approached, and tried to teach myself that it’s okay to ask for help when it’s needed. After enjoying the Star Wars Banquet and powering through my finals, I enjoyed a nice, long winter break.

my Done Is Good list from first semester

a concert I saw in Philly right after my birthday

my wonderful roommate Sohini, sitting on her desk after rearranging our triple to reflect that only two of us were now living there.

I couldn’t have been happier to get back to Bryn Mawr in January. I started to see my independent major really coming together and I enjoyed my new set of classes: sex on screens, probability and statistics, understanding poetry, and museum anthropology. Even though there had been huge changes made to “Welcome the First-years Week” (formerly and continuously known as Hell Week), I knew that the spirit of my favorite tradition was still intact. As the head sophomore traditions representative for my dorm, I helped make sure it was a great time for the first years of Rhoads South. I loved getting to hell my two babies and share with them some of the things I love most about Bryn Mawr.

visiting my good friend Leyla in Houston over winter break

a hell proposal!! Maya & I are on the right, Fiona & Leyla on the left

me with my other “child,” Patience, after I gave her her hell schedule

During March and April, I struggled to make my independent major dreams come true while trying to find something to do over the summer. This year involved a lot of introspection and thinking about my future, which could be really overwhelming. When my major was finally added to my transcript, it felt like things were starting to fall into place. My cousin and a few good friends of mine committed to Bryn Mawr, and I started to face the reality of a new sister class of baby blues. Even when it became clear that May Day would be rainy, I knew Bryn Mawr would pull through.

me and my cousin Cecilia (she’s coming here in the fall!)

I got a lot of rejections this year. From about 10 different internships, from friendships, and so on. I was nominated for SGA positions and ran for them but lost every time. I applied to be a peer mentor and was rejected. I hosted a club meeting that only two people came to–this happened at least three times this year. My film was rejected by the Tri-Co Film Festival, and I missed more buses and trains than I’d care to count. This isn’t necessarily representative of what made this year hard (and it doesn’t include the successes), I just think it’s important to be honest with myself and others about failure, because it happens to everyone, all the time. Whenever I felt like I wasn’t doing enough, wasn’t achieving as much as I was supposed to, or just plain wasn’t good enough, I tried to think about the time I came in for an interview for this job. When Diana (my boss in the communications office) asked about what activities I did on campus, I told her the truth. I’d tried out for a capella groups, but I’d been sick and got stage fright. I joined clubs, only to never get emails or find out that their meetings conflicted with my schedule. I ran for an SGA position and lost. When I joined a theatre production to do costuming, the show was cancelled before it ever left paper tech. I was trying, but what I did on campus had ended up being schoolwork and hanging out with my friends. I emphasized that I loved spending time with those friends and coming up with our own wacky adventures, trying to convince her that my fairly sparse list of activities wasn’t due to an inability to socialize or a lack of interesting characteristics. Obviously, it worked out, and I learned that it’s okay not to always be doing as much as possible.

eating outside with friends

me and Leyla on May Day (this site won’t let me upload the full photo)

my May Day outfit was amazing, in case anyone was wondering

I’m a little more than halfway done with my finals, so I can practically feel the warmth of the summer sun at the end of the academic tunnel. This summer, I’ll be working at the Philadelphia Museum of Art’s education department on their “Creative Africa” exhibit. I received LILAC funding to work with Professor Monique Scott, director of Bryn Mawr’s museum studies program, and another student to research how diverse audiences experience the exhibition and the museum’s ArtSplash event. I can’t even begin to express how excited I am–museum education is probably my top choice for a career path at the moment. All that’s left are two papers, signing a lease, and packing up before I’ll be enjoying my summer. It’s been a wild ride, Bryn Mawr, and I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me next year.

me with fellow banter blogger Kirsten Adams on our museum anthropology field trip to the American Museum of Natural History in NYC

Last Saturday was a day I’d been looking forward to all year. Nimbus literary and arts magazine held our launch party for this year’s edition of the magazine. The magazine didn’t get published last year, so being able to hold our creations in our hands was an incredible feeling. I joined Nimbus last year as a staff editor at the activities fair in the fall. I submitted a few pieces, rated the other submissions, and attended a handful of meetings. I was pretty disappointed when the magazine didn’t get published–I’d always wanted to do the literary magazine in high school, but didn’t want to give up any of my electives to take it as a class. At the beginning of this year, I jumped at the chance to help Maggie and Giulietta out when they emailed the staff looking for people to help them at the activities fair. Since I was the only person to respond besides Kirsten, we became the new publicity head and submissions editor.

the banner I made for the activities fair now hangs in Maggie’s room over their fireplace

All year, we’ve been holding meetings with our staff members in preparation for the magazine launch. We did a LOT of writing workshops before we finally had enough submissions to regularly rate them as a group. Mid-February, the executive board (co-presidents Maggie and Giulietta, submission editor Kirsten, treasurer Cassidy, and me, the publicity head) took it upon ourselves to finish the design portion of the magazine. We took our top-rated works from the communal staff ratings system, quickly determined an order, divided up the pages, and set about formatting out magazine. After many late Wednesday nights in the Carpenter media lab, we finally ordered the magazine.

letter from the editors

We’d been planning our launch party since November, allowing ourselves to get overly excited about the “cocktail attire preferred” dress code and the snacks we’d serve whenever submissions were running low. We chose to dedicate this edition to Professor Jane Hedley, from whom Maggie, Kirsten, and I have all had the pleasure of learning. Her courses in poetics have greatly influenced us (and generations of other Mawrtyrs) as writers and critics, and her retirement this coming summer seemed to indicate that dedicating the magazine to her would be a perfect move. Of course, we also just wanted to invite her to the party.

the magazine!

snacks on snacks on snacks

On Saturday, we gathered in the Goodhart music room with magazine and snacks to share our triumphant creation with all of our friends, staff members, and contributors. Giulietta, a graduating senior, gave a great little speech about her time with the magazine before reading her “We Were No Match for the Chestnuts” out loud to us from the pages of the magazine. Maggie surprised us all with a few of their unpublished love poems, and I even shared one of mine. It was wonderful to see all of the staff and contributing artists who came out to support the magazine and enjoy some tasty treats with us. The absolute best part was when Professor Hedley asked all of us to autograph her copy of the magazine–I truly felt honored!

the executive board and professor Hedley!

Maggie reading one of their poems

Though producing a literary and arts magazine was a lot of work, it was mostly a fun-filled labor of love. I greatly admire all of the artwork printed in our magazine and on our blog, and I am honored to know that their creators are all my peers here at Bryn Mawr. Nimbus will be losing some key members next year, just as Bryn Mawr will be losing professor Hedley, but these losses will be accompanied by influxes of new growth and ways of thinking. I’m so proud to be a part of Nimbus, and I can’t wait to see what we receive next year. As the exec board likes to say, be creative, and spread the lit mag love!

‘Twas the day of the room draw, and all ‘cross the land,
Mawrtyrs’ fingers stayed crossed, hoping all goes as planned,
The draw-order numbers had gone up at noon,
Hopes to be realized or dashed very soon,
The Mawrtyrs were checking numbers of beds,
While visions of window-seats danced in their heads.
And the residence council, with puns on display,
Were ever-so-ready for this fateful day.
As Thomas Great Hall filled up with chatter,
Of Mawrtyrs with maps to clear up the matter,
Dorm President hopefuls securing possible votes,
And heated debates over retiring to Rhoads,
Surreptitiously plugging numbers into phones,
Hoping luck would prevail over living along,
When what to our wondering ears did appear,
But a last run-through of procedure, just to be clear.
When asked to explain, most Mawrtyrs just stare,
“It’s just one of those things, you just have to be there”
Suddenly the first number rang out ‘cross the hall
Her response of “Erdman!” was surely soothing to all.
Now Brecon! Now Denbigh! Now Pem East and West!
In Radnor! In Merion! New Dorm, Rock, and the rest!
Maybe you want a porch? Or a floor made of wood?
Or anywhere, anywhere, anywhere good!
As leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
Rooms dashed out of South in the blink of an eye.
New Dorm went next, closing as well,
Rhoads North was the third place the eraser fell.
Whispering to friends who had yet to decide
Just where they might choose when it was their time.
My roommate wants New Dorm with singles galore,
But I won’t trust myself with a carpeted floor
One heller in Batten, the other just drew
She’ll enjoy Merion, the laundry will be new
A friend suggests Rock, where I lived last year,
But my number could mean the third floor, I fear.
When it comes to the Pems, I’d put West after East,
But it is said that they both suffer from the beasties.
I’d almost forgotten all about Brecon–
But being realistic, I know I’m not up for trekkin’.
I’m not drawn to Denbigh, I’ve no reason why,
And with none of my friends there, why even try?
Worst case is Erd, but I’m not desperate yet
I won’t get back into Rhoads, but I’m not upset
Number 227 had me prepared
For all possible outcomes, any number of stairs
If Athena is willing, I’ll be with my friends
And we won’t be enemies by the time all this ends.
So the numbers drone on, as dorms fill up and close
While successful room-drawers empty the rows
Heads turn at some decisions to closely inspect
Who could possibly think that THAT dorm is the best?
But each to the own, or so I’ve been heard said,
And at least that means my chances aren’t in the red.
My number’s approaching, it’s really crunch time
I’m still frantic, and nervous, and can’t quite decide
Do I need to be social? Aren’t bathrooms enough?
When did knowing what I like suddenly get so tough?
At long last it’s my time, it’s my number that’s called
And I’ve got to announce my residence hall
I’ve gossiped, and searched, and whispered a lot
Thought about coolness, thought it’s something I’m not
But oh, what the hell, I’d rather be around
People I know I like, and Uncommon Grounds
I’ll take red windowpanes, and maybe some volume
If I know I’ll be excited about any room.
So 227–oh goodness, that’s me!
Yes, Radnor is where I’d like to be!
I’ve met with success–I think I’ll be alright!
So to all, a good Room Draw, and to all, a goodnight!

Students at Bryn Mawr College are reporting severe amounts of overcrowding in their libraries given the recent shift to spring weather. As temperatures outside climb to almost 80 degrees, students are crammed into the tiny study spaces on campus. The scene is vicious, with bags clutched close to chests, computer plugs held menancingly near the outlets, and intelligent young adults reduced to snarling beasts in their competition for seats in the library. “Ever since the sun came out, and the flowers started to blossom,” reports Sara King, a biology major in 2018, “you just can’t keep people out of the libraries. It’s really stressful, knowing how full the buildings are, when all you want to do is focus on your schoolwork and ignore the sun-filled campus.” Students have been complaining about the school-wide increase in work ethic ever since a few days in February climbed above 50 degrees and one or two trees on campus sprouted confused buds. But is it really all about the weather?

admitted student Akili Davis works in Carpenter library: “I couldn’t believe how crowded it was in there, and how focused I felt on the campus. I’m definitely considering Bryn Mawr, but this spring fever has got me worried.”

“Oh, definitely,” says Jamie-Lynn DiDomenico, 2018, “everyone here just hates fun, and sunshine, and flowers, so as soon as spring rolls around, the libraries fill right up. It’s even affecting the students in my graduate school classes–I’ve never seen such perfect attendance. It’s just frustrating.” Students also say that their professors aren’t helping the problem–when a Haverford student suggested they take their lecture outside, Professor Don of the French department was reportedly so horrified that she completely forgot how to speak French, spending the rest of the class trying to communicate only in German. Maya Bhalla-Ladd, 2019, expressed confusion about her ecology professor’s antics when she asked if they’d be visiting the trees on campus again. “She just stared at me and then laughed,” the first-year biology major hopeful said, “and asked if we’d rather just go to Collier to look at slides. Everyone said yes, of course–who wants to be outside, where it’s warm, when we could be in the science library?”

Carpenter Library

As students raced across campus to their classes, never pausing for photographs of the lines of cherry blossom trees erupting into bloom, this reporter was able to stop one student who said they were “a die-hard library go-er.” Maggie Alvarez, an English major of the class of 2017, had a lot of complaints about the recent influx of studiers. “I’ve seen this every year–classic spring fever,” the co-president of Nimbus, the literary and arts magazine sighed, “it’s really hard on dedicated library folks like myself. We’re in there year-round, even when the weather is terrible outside! But now, when the sun is shining, there’s really nothing on anybody’s minds but studying. You can barely get tables in the main libraries–I’ve got a few secret study spots I prefer myself for when times get tough. And no, I won’t tell you where they are–just know there’s a window seat involved. I’ve gotta go–I’ve got a great idea for a snapchat story, but I don’t want to do it until I’ve finished all the work I could possibly think of.” They rushed off, muttering about starting a draft of their thesis months early.

Leyla Fahim, 2018, claims that her recent motivation to excel in physics can only be attributed to how ridiculously beautiful it is outside. “I really struggle with focusing, but when there’s weather like this, you can’t get me out of the library. There’s just nothing better I could be doing–why would I go for a hike in the woods or have a picnic when I could be tackling problem sets and re-reading chapters on mathematical theories?” She acknowledged, however, that the new surge of energy wouldn’t last. Come finals, she said, “I’ll definitely be doing something way more interesting and important than studying, like spinning a stick in circles or bleaching my roommate’s hair. The weather effect will have worn off by then, and we’ll be able to procrastinate again, thank goodness.” At press time, she’d finished her work for the next two and a half weeks, and was frantically trying to shove her computer charger into an outlet already being used by three other students.

Leyla Fahim, 2018, hard at work amidst the crowds

Some students expressed confusion at the notion of spring fever. “What do you mean, it’s spring?” demanded Solana Adonis, class of 2018. “What cherry blossoms? I’m late for being 10 minutes early to class, get out of my way!” she added, before running off towards Carpenter, seemingly oblivious to the picturesque alley of trees that shrouded the walkway. On other college campuses, one might see students lounging about in the sun, playing frisbee, or organizing elaborate photoshoots to capture the spectacular beauty of their campus, but here at Bryn Mawr, schoolwork clearly is foremost on the minds of everyone.

takeout meals are preferred in this spring weather, because of how quickly students can resume studying.

On Friday, my Sex on Screens class attended the Tri-College Symposium of Women of Color in Academia, a 5 hour event titled “Intimate Subjects: Gender and Race in Theory and Practice.” The speakers were Celine Parreñas Shimizu of San Francisco State University, Rhacel Salazar Parreñas of the University of Southern California, and Juno Salazar Parreñas of Ohio State University. The three women are sisters whose work in film and gender/sexuality studies, sociology, and anthropology share themes of interrogating perceptions of gendered and racialized subjects, especially Asian women. As Celine cheerfully noted before her presentation, the sisters had never before presented together, so this event was as exciting for them as it was for us. Each presenter was introduced by a representative from Swarthmore, Haverford, and Bryn Mawr, and each of the local professors noted that they shared a personal connection with the sister they were introducing. My classmates and I were especially amused when Professor Hoang Tan Nguyen–who teaches our course–revealed his connection to Juno. They’d been introduced at a queer youth group in San Fransisco, and he joked that they’d “gone from being angsty queer teens to jaded queer professors,” a humorous attitude that was reflected throughout the symposium even as the presenters covered rather serious topics.

The first presentation was Celine Shimizu’s “Claiming Bruce Lee’s Sex: Memoirs of the Wholesome Wife, Memories of the Salubrious Mistress,” a riveting dissection of two conflicting memoirs of Bruce Lee published by his wife and his mistress after he died. If anyone had asked me anything about the end of Bruce Lee’s life before the symposium, I would’ve shrugged and tried to pretend I already knew he was dead (yeah, I know, embarrassing). I had no idea that his death had been an international sex scandal–he died in his mistresses bed! Shimizu talked about the ways the wife and the mistress tried to claim Bruce Lee through their romantic and sexual relationships with him. His wife’s memoir paints him as unknowable to outsiders, relishes in the sanctity of their marriage while addressing the tensions of being an interracial couple in the 60s, and asserts his manhood through his role as a husband and a father. Her Bruce Lee was exceptional to his race, a lingering example of the sole case of a publicly validated Asian manhood. The mistress’s sexually explicit film portrays a ferocious lover, a deep bond created by the sanctity of intraracial relations, and a rollicking drug-infused passion that ruled his final days. She sets her claim on Bruce Lee by depicting their love as uncontrollable desire legitimized not by an institution but by their shared ethnicity. But Shimizu refused to condemn either woman or choose one version as the truth–instead, she turned the entire discussion on its head by recontextualizing the works as acts of grieving. She also shared how she had come to this, explaining that after the sudden death of her youngest son, she’d experienced a radical transformation in her conception of self. The wife and the mistress were not just trying to claim Bruce Lee, they were trying to reaffirm their own senses of self in the wake of the loss of the man their identities had been tied to. This personal noted reinforced the theme of intimacy that was so crucial to the symposium.

Celine Parreñas Shimizu

Rhacel Parreñas followed with “Mobilizing Morality: The Labor Conditions of Migrant Domestic Workers in Dubai” in which she complicated the narrative presented by organizations such as Human Rights Watch to explore the ways in which migrant domestic workers in Dubai exert their agency. This sociological presentation was a bit more heady than the first, but it was fascinating to see how Rhacel broke down the statistics to show how a recent Human Rights Watch report that used her interviewees got it all wrong. When most people think of migrant domestic workers in Dubai, they probably think of the horror stories: starvation, women being locked inside homes, and the many circumstances that force Filipina workers to migrate internationally to care for other people’s children so that they can afford to raise their children who are left behind in the Philippines. While there’s no way to deny the tragedy of the latter, Rhacel was mostly talking about how domestic workers are actually treated relatively well on the whole and why this is true. The Philippine government–specifically the Office of Placement and Protection–runs training seminars for migrants in which they are taught their rights and how to get them in the face of a lack of legislation. The women are instructed to appeal to their employer’s morals, because when employers treat their employees well, the employers get the satisfaction of feeling morally superior to their neighbors. They’ve also been instructed about where to go, when they have to get there, and what to say in situations of abuse. When organizations like HRW try an overall condemnation of actions in the hopes of shaming people into better behavior or creating laws, it often backfires. Emiratis denounced HRW as Orientalist and Islamophobic while non-Emirati residents of Dubai dismissed the reports as not pertaining to them since it is common knowledge that abuse is almost solely perpetuated by older, rural people who were alive when slavery was still legal in the UAE. It’s simply not as effective as the tactics used by migrant workers to mobilize the morals of their employers. Rhacel clarified that she was not trying to overlook the abuses or the tragic nature of the economic situation that forces migration, but that she was trying to present the facts so that people who try to help don’t end up doing more harm than good.

Rhacel Salazar Parreñas

a flowchart and some statistics

At this point there was a much-needed coffee (and more importantly, snack) break before the symposium continued with Juno Parreñas’s presentation titled “Life After Extinction in the Wild: Orangutan-Human Futures of Interdependency in Malaysian Borneo.” Her presentation on her anthropological fieldwork at an orangutan rehabilitation center focused on ideas of freedom and autonomy and how there are parallels between human struggles for decolonization and the plight of orangutans. Juno’s blend of cultural and biological anthropology fascinated me, as did her oh-so-casual references to anthropologists she’d worked with whose books I’d read in my classes. I was also pretty starstruck by her snazzy red velvet blazer. Her talk was definitely heavily within the theoretical realm as she discussed the possibility of extending the notion of decolonization to the natural world. One of her main points was that interdependency can be both mutual and unequal–for example, orangutans need the caretakers for survival, and the caretakers need the orangutans to draw economic resources for survival, but only one group is confined to the reservation. Also, the man who runs the volunteer tourism group needs the labor of the indigenous woman who takes care of the baby orangutans, and she needs him for her economic survival, but because her English is weak she cannot ask him to raise her pay to a living wage. In these examples it’s clear how Juno’s talk related to the overarching themes of gender and race, and her descriptions of the interactions with the orangutans challenged my conception of the word intimacy.

a slide from Juno’s presentation with a picture of the rehabilitation center

The presentations were followed by a roundtable which invited audience questions. The sisters had even organized prizes for the first 10 questions–signed copies of Celine’s 13-year-old son Bayan’s book, This Book is Tear-able! While the questions and answers were certainly interesting, funny, touching, and enlightening (there’s really nothing like watching three women interact as academics and as sisters), I was way slightly more excited by receiving a copy of the book. Bayan, his mother, and his aunt had all signed it, and he’d even included a little note: “enjoy!” It is a book of puns. I’d kind of expected to make a joke about sitting in Carpenter for 5 hours to receive a book written by a child, but the introduction caught me off guard with its intense thoughtfulness and heart-wrenchingly precious honesty.

the roundtable

The book is dedicated to his little brother, who died suddenly two years ago due to an infection. Bayan’s introduction describes his death, the trip to the hospital, the realization, and the overwhelming depression he experienced in the wake of losing his brother. It also describes how he started collected puns from his friends and friends of his brother as a way to relive a connection they’d shared and explore joy in the face of loss. The introduction displays a powerful awareness that underscores the cute, cheesy humor of the short book–his second published volume of puns. The symposium as a whole was an incredible experience that continued to resonate with me days after it happened because of the way the sisters invited the audience into their work and their lives. It seemed clear to me that Bayan is on a path to follow his family’s footsteps and delve ever deeper into humanity’s many intimacies.

Tuesday was Bryn Mawr’s second annual Community Day of Learning, an incredible event that exemplifies Bryn Mawr’s commitment to activism, education, and community. Between 9 AM and 3:30 PM, classes are cancelled, offices are closed, and even essential departments limit their availability in order to make the Day of Learning accessible to everyone. This year’s theme was In/Visible: Class on Campus, Class in Our Lives. There were about 45 different options spread out over three sessions, including workshops, facilitated dialogues, discussion and experience panels, research lectures, films, service projects, and more. All faculty, staff, and students were invited to attend, and from what I saw, the turnout was incredible. The eagerness of the community to address difficult conversations and experience unusual learning opportunities has been one of my favorite things about Bryn Mawr.

I woke up at 9:55 and leapt out of bed, realizing I’d accidentally slept through President Cassidy’s opening remarks. I raced over to Carpenter Library just in time for Debunking Bryn Mawr: Perceptions and Realities of the Student Body led by Emma Porter ’17, Kirsten Adams ’16, Aarionna Goodman ’19, and Dean Christina Rose. The presenters are all members of Bryn Mawr’s First Go-ers, meaning they are first generation college students. We began by guessing percentages: students on any financial aid, on need-based, federal, work-study, students who are first generation, first go-ers on aid, etc. We compared our numbers with our neighbors. My neighbors and I had some guesses in common, but mine were significantly lower in other areas–I guess I’ve been hearing rumors that the freshman class is richer than previous years and I felt a bit disillusioned about Bryn Mawr’s ability to provide scholarships and aid for a large percentage of its students. When the real percentages were revealed, there was a lot of gasping, even from the many attendees who work in admissions (yay need-blind applications!). For those who are curious, here are my guesses compared to the reality:

information on financial aid and first generation college students (it got a bit wet)

After the exercise, we broke into groups to discuss our results. A handful of people expressed shock at the number of first generation students on campus, saying they didn’t know any. I’ve been lucky enough to be close friends with quite a few first go-ers, so I hadn’t been too surprised by the numbers. I and a few other members of my group pointed out that a first generation college student isn’t exactly something clearly visible about a person. For example, neither Emma nor Kirsten look like the stereotypical first go-er people might have in their minds (feel free to google “first generation college student” to see how these stereotypes are expressed–I don’t feel comfortable reproducing them here). We also talked about our perceptions of other groups on campus. One student said that because she knew international applications were not need-blind, she’d been under the impression that international students never received aid from the college and were all wealthy. Looking at the percentage of students on aid, and knowing that international students make up about a third of the community, she realized she’d been misinformed–clearly, at least some international students were receiving aid. A financial aid officer in our group confirmed this realization, telling us that Bryn Mawr tries its best to provide aid to international students since they can’t receive federal grants, but that many international students opt to conceal their need on applications in hope of increasing their chances of getting accepted while their families, extended families, and even whole communities make sacrifices for them to afford the costs. All in all, it was an incredible eye-opening discussion, and the panelists closed the session with touching personal anecdotes about their own experiences with class markers as first generation students. Even Dean Rose shared a sympathetic story about not knowing what NPR was and not bringing a mini fridge to college.

After that session, I made my way over to Dalton for Different Closets: Complicating Narratives of Class and Queerness, which was hosted by Meera Jayaraman ’17, Maya Ulin-O’Keefe ’17, and Kelsey Weymouth-Little ’16. This panel began with a silent writing exercise in response to the question, “how do you think queerness is expressed in rural and/or working class communities?” As I began to write, I realized that the extent of my knowledge was drawn from a high school production of The Laramie Project and a brief obsession with Billy Elliot. I decided that this meant I was definitely in the right place–it is, after all, a day of learning. We then shared our thoughts in groups and I was surprised to learn that two of the students next to me were able to speak from personal experience–I’d made assumptions about their class backgrounds without even knowing them at all. This is what I love about the Day of Learning: I’m learning about myself and how I allow my privilege to go unchecked while learning about the lives of others.

When the session turned back into a group-wide discussion, there were a few poignant moments that really stood out. One woman shared that in that group conversation she’d just come to understand bisexuality and that the group had helped her on her path to fully understanding and supporting her daughter. Another spoke about bringing her gender non-conforming child to a counseling and support center for queer youth, a resource she wouldn’t have had access to if she had lived in a different community. We also talked about queer fashion expression (flannels, work boots) as appropriated from the working class and how the intersections of race and class might make that expression of queerness inaccessible for certain people. One of my favorite takeaways from the day was when someone in the group stressed the importance of calling people in to discussions rather than calling them out for using the wrong language or not understanding something–it’s important to remember that not everyone has had the same exposure to education about gender and sexuality (or other topics) and to treat everyone as though they have good intentions and the ability to learn. The next activity involved responding to quotes from Steel Closets by Anne Balay and Exile and Pride by Eli Clare. I was impressed by the range of ways people interacted with the quotes and wished there was enough time to delver deeper than an introduction.

keynote speaker Helen Gym

I chose lunch over attending a third session, and all too soon, the Community Day of Learning had ended. Well, almost. The keynote speaker was local councilwoman and activist Helen Gym, a passionate proponent of education reform and Asian-American rights in Philly. She spoke about the deplorable conditions of Philadelphia’s public schools, many of which are suffering from the city’s rampant poverty, and how the schools are failing children from low-income backgrounds on many levels. Her remarks were a powerful call to consciousness and action, and her energy drew an emotional response from the crowd. After filling out a few reflection questions and talking to nearby friends about their days, I trudged uphill through the rain to get back to campus. Though the day had given me a lot to think about, the main thing on my mind was: I can’t wait to see what they do next year.

On Wednesday, I submitted my independent major proposal. It was just a click of a button on an online form, but it felt like a giant step towards having something to be proud of. The major isn’t even approved and I feel excited! After documenting the submission on snapchat, I began fielding a lot of questions–about the process, my major, my plans for the future–that I’d only really addressed with a handful of people. Since the Bryn Mawr website is a bit reticent when it comes to independent majors and there isn’t much of a community, I thought I’d try to explain the process as I’m encountering it.

how I felt after submitting my proposal (I know Kanye has been up to no good recently but come on)

First of all: what? I’m (hopefully) majoring in film and media studies, an interdisciplinary field that is currently only a minor here at Bryn Mawr. If my proposal is accepted, this will be my second major alongside anthropology. This field is pretty recognizable and straightforward, but I know other independent majors whose studies are a bit more difficult to summarize. Basically, an independent major is designed by the student when they feel that the preexisting programs do not suit their needs. This is obviously a lot more complicated than the already-difficult process of choosing and completing a major, so I only know of two other students whose majors were approved (though that’s just off the top of my head and I haven’t really sought anyone out).

Next up: why? Why would I want to submit myself to the many difficulties of double majoring, especially when one of the majors is independent and therefore lacks any conventional support system? I’m sure the answers are different for each and every independent major, but they all probably boil down to one thing: passion. I love film. I took an incredible two-year course in high school that reignited an interest I’d put on the back burner after middle school. I wasn’t able to take a film course during my first semester at Bryn Mawr, and I felt incomplete. I jumped at any chance to write about a movie in my classes. I came to Bryn Mawr planning to minor in film, but as I found myself losing interest in studying abroad, the idea popped into my head: I should just major in it.

Okay then: how? Declaring an independent major is not nearly as simple as saying I want to watch movies all the time. I met with my dean, I met with potential major advisers, I met with my anthropology adviser, I met with my dean again, I met with other independent majors–and I did all of this before I even started writing anything down. The proposal itself requires a list of courses I’d taken that I could use for the major, a list of courses I planned to take, and a list of alternate courses because I can’t predict the future. Each course needed to have a blurb explaining why it would be helpful for my studies. I had to demonstrate the interdisciplinary-ness of my major. And I had to write a proposal explaining what I wanted to study, why I needed to do it this way, what I might use this for in the future, and even what I might do for a thesis/capstone project. On top of that, I had to provide three letters of support: one from my dean and two from faculty members who have agreed to be my advisers. Now that I’ve submitted all of those materials, I’m actually not that much closer to being done. The independent major committee will review my proposal, interview me, and probably ask me to some changes before I submit it again. And possibly again.

Despite how awesome I and my advisers might consider my proposal to be, there is always a chance of rejection. I have a friend whose gender and sexuality major was approved after an extremely long revision process, but I also know of someone whose education major was rejected after she revised it. Since I already have an established major, the committee could just insist that I stick to minoring in film. Or, they could see my other major as a source of support that will enable me to better complete my independent major. They’ve approved many film/media studies proposals in the past, but that doesn’t mean they’ll like mine. My dean is head of the committee, so she knows how driven and prepared I am, but she also knows that I sometimes have trouble with deadlines. It all feels very hit-or-miss, and I’m trying not to have it on my mind constantly.

One of the most common questions I am asked is, “so what are you going to do with that?” I think that people are often confused by the combination of anthropology and film, though I see the two as not only compatible but more “practical” when combined. I have a lot to say in response to that question–as do liberal arts students everywhere–but for now, I’ll leave it at this: have you ever watched a documentary? or a foreign film? or been to a museum? or a film festival? Yeah.

As I wait to hear back about my fate (I can’t help but think of it in such dramatic terms), I’ve been trying to distract myself by throwing myself wholeheartedly into my work. Okay, I’m actually really focused on preparing for WTF week (T minus 1.5 days!!!), but I promise I’m doing work too! Anyways, the whole process makes me think of a quote by Terry Pratchett: “The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it’s as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.”

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About Maeve

After trading the Metro for SEPTA and the DC area’s cherry blossoms for Bryn Mawr’s cherry blossoms, I’m now a sophomore planning to major in anthropology with a minor in film studies. I love reading (murder mysteries) and writing (poetry), and I’m Publicity Head of Nimbus Literary Arts Magazine. I'm also the head sophomore Traditions Rep for my dorm, Rhoads South! I’ve been known to appear at other club meetings, but my passion for watching nature documentaries and old movies can sometimes get in the way. I also do photography (okay, Instagram) and costume/fashion design in my free time. I hope the future finds me making a difference.